tarantella
by archy the cockroach
Summary: in six.eight time [marluxiaaxeldemyx]


His fingers move pretty fast.

Axel likes to watch his slim fingers move. He likes the way they caress the strings and slide up and down and he likes the feeling of the same calloused fingers against his skin and the way that his thumbs feel moving against his lower lip as he laughs softly when Axel gets a little bit impatient. The beginning is quiet, it's always quiet, because Axel's mouth is trapped and his tongue is tied in a knot with Demyx's and Marluxia's just trying to hold on.

But at the same time, Demyx's hands are quite a bit softer than the hands pinching his legs and Axel can't help but squirm in Marluxia's lap, and he loves it when Marluxia releases a light groan into his ear. His breath is warm like the summer-spring he represents, and the fire flickers in the wind, a whimper crawling up his throat and spilling onto Demyx's lips, waiting for the rain to swallow it up.

Between Marluxia's cock buried inside of him, and Demyx's teasing nibbles along his lower lip, he can barely realize what's going on but something tells him that he's just fine in the place he is. He can feel Marluxia's back against him, and he's got both hands on his hips now, attempting to pull him down, let Axel fuck himself on him. Demyx likes to watch, he decides, and Axel wonders if he's getting a little bothered— every time Axel tries to touch Demyx, he politely declines and says he'd rather watch. Says it's 'inspiration'.

Well, if Axel's moans in perfect chorus with Marluxia's falling-leaf light sighs are inspiration, then a skeleton might as well be Santa Claus.

But that doesn't matter here, and Demyx is the only one who doesn't have his clothes off, but Axel wants them off and he's reaching for the blonde's zipper, and those calloused fingers push his hands away and as Marluxia hits that _perfect spot_, Axel forgets what he's doing because the roar of white specks in his vision tell him that he's alright where he is. Here it is, the build up, the roar of sound and a quickening pace and everything and everything and everyone—

Demyx just watches, pausing every few moments to scribble something down onto a piece of stationary that Marluxia gave him last year for Christmas, because he couldn't think of a better gift. Of course, neither could Axel, so he'd bought Demyx (or rather, himself) some particularly fun articles of clothing to wear, but were equally fun to take off.

The red head has his hands on his thighs, and it's taking all the effort he has left to pull himself upward until Marluxia is barely inside of him, and it takes just as much effort to slide back down and feel Marluxia's nipples brushing his shoulder blades, and his cock fills him again, and he moans and he doesn't care and Demyx is scribbling again (he can practically feel the pen scratching across the paper). The middle, the climax of the music, and the panting makes a good backbeat and Demyx just wishes he had his sitar at Marluxia's house.

Axel wants to ask what Demyx is doing. He truly does, but Marluxia's first two fingers are in his open mouth, keeping his head tilted backward and Marluxia is sliding a slick tongue against his pulse, and he can feel the man's long hair sticking to his forehead and his neck where his face is touching him. God, it's so up-close and personal, Axel can hardly bear it and he's so tired.

He's so tired.

Axel's utterly wanton, thrusting himself down on Marluxia with reckless abandon and the fire is threatening to burn itself out, nature breathing down his spine and eating away at his soul. Water sits nearby, still scribbling something onto the paper, even though an erection is visibly straining in his pants.

He doesn't care when he comes, biting Marluxia's fingers as hard as he possibly can, entire being tightening in sexual satisfaction, back arching and head thrown over Marluxia's shoulder, teeth clenched around flesh in unheard screams. Marluxia is quiet as he comes, as usual, and Axel expects it completely and Demyx, for once, isn't writing and his eyes are glazed as he watches. That was his favorite part of the song, anyway.

And now for the drop off, the wind-down, the fadeout in which Axel pulls himself off and falls onto the floor, narrowly missing the slight stain on the carpet. Marluxia looks as relaxed as ever, a bare, burnt tree now that the fire has gone away. But water can always put out fires, and Demyx grins and leans forward and he's upside-down as he catches Axel's lips (the carpet scratches his skin) in a loose kiss.

He's still hard, but he doesn't care. Once Axel's ready again, he'll let himself loose. But with the fire steadily dying out because there's nothing left to burn, water doesn't really have its uses any longer. But still, he kisses Axel and waits for him to regain some of his strength.

Demyx can hear Marluxia moving about in the background, and he isn't at all surprised when he feels butterfly-kisses against the back of his neck, and slim, soft hands moving under his shirt. Axel just laughs from where he is, watching the water flood and shiver with a wild facial expression as mischievous fingers toy with his nipples.

Still, Axel isn't ready yet as he lays on his back, hands cupping Demyx's upside-down face, and he feels Demyx's forehead brush against his Adam's apple and his lower lip feels like his upper lip and it's a very odd experience. But still, with Marluxia settling around him, and an already hardening cock pressing up against his lower back, and Axel's lips so chapped and odd feeling against his own, Demyx knows he was wrong.

Being with Axel and Marluxia, well, it's not the rapid dance he imagined.

A tarantella is in 6/8 time.

But Marluxia and Axel continue to linger in 3/4.

Demyx is just glad he's one of those three quarter-note pulses.


End file.
